


Upfronts

by agoodwoman



Series: Instinct Over Reason [7]
Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M, Gillovny, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3926842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between the Fox Upfronts and the parties, what happened?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upfronts

She looked around the room at the other actors, executives and producers of Fox. A few faces she recognized, but many she didn't. Many of the people she had known from fifteen years ago are gone. There was another upfronts party she would be expected to attend later that evening and she had a few hours to kill before then.

  
She tossed her black bag softly onto the periwinkle canvas of the outer benches lining the party and slumped against the white leather back. Her feet weren't used to these flatter heels and she was suddenly missing her fat bottom wedges. Those at least had a bit more cushion for the pads of her feet.

  
A buzzing vibrated from the leather bag next to her and she dug it out of her bag, answering it without glancing at the screen.

  
"Have you eaten enough bullshit for the evening?" a familiar voice replied glibly after she says hello.

  
She smiled and sunk further against the couch, her posture relaxing. "I thought we were serving bull shit."

  
She caught herself swearing and mentally rebuked herself. She would add to the swear jar she has at home later.

  
"Oh right, super excited and all that crap," he says and she can hear the sound of the streets around him. "Why are you still there?"

  
"I'm making the rounds. Saying thank-you to doodle-donators," she reminds him. "Taking selfies and going on the Twitter as old people say."

  
He laughed at her joke. "Come over."

  
A slight flush took over her cheeks and she tried to fight a smile. "Uh.. I can't."

  
"Since when?" he asked. "Hold on, I'm at my building."

  
There's a rustling of keys and she can picture him walking though an open lobby.

  
"Don't you have a concert tomorrow?" she reminded him. "Live?"

  
"Come over for a night cap," he urges. The familiar whisper of his convincing tones, the same voice that urged their alter-egos to jump out of bed in the night and chase monsters in the dark. "Come on, come see me."

  
"I... I have a party I'm going to in a couple hours."

  
"Gillian!" A young ingénue approaches and asks for a selfie.

  
David listened on while she entertained a young woman fawn over her. They discussed the upcoming revival. This young woman was just as big a fan of Hannibal and The Fall. As it turns out, she was born the same year as Piper but promised she has watched the series, although Gillian suspected the genre isn't her thing. The conversation came to a close with a promise to donate a doodle for 2016 charity.

 

"Sorry! Are you there?"

  
There was heavy breathing on the other end.

  
"David? What's that - what are you doing?"

  
"I climbed my stairs," he huffed. "I didn't want to lose you in the elevator."

  
"How thoughtful," she replied and started to make her way through the crowd. "I guess I could stop by before going back to my hotel."

  
"No sleepovers?" he asked, not masking his disappointment.

  
"No, I told you I have that event and anyway, I have things I need and the boys will call in the morning before school," she reminded him.

  
"Text them to call your cell, I always have a spare toothbrush," he said. "Wait, isn't that in the middle of the night?"

  
"I mean clean underwear and a change of clothes," she argued. "I'm not going to get snapped leaving your place in the dress I was photographed in today. And it will be very early for me but I do it every time, you know..."

 

"Right, I forgot. Sorry," he said cutting her off.

 

He knew the priority of parenthood was paramount to anything else for her. Reminding him of that always made him tense. Work and personal relationships took a back seat to her kids and sometimes for her that meant flying all night to spend the morning with them so she could take a later flight the afternoon to another destination if it meant she had a few hours with them.

  
"But you're coming here," he guessed. Gillian escaped out of the tented area and felt the cool air on her skin. "Gillian?"

  
"Yeah, I'm coming," she sighed. "I can't stay long-"

  
"Just come up, I want to see you. Alone without gawking eyes."

  
At this point, it was a bad idea. He had a show in the morning. Tomorrow was a busy day; she had a meeting with a producer for the play they were trying to bring to NYC. Another meeting with Jeff to go over pages she submitted. But there she was, getting in the car and heading to his apartment. It wasn't far from her hotel but she would need a car to take her to her back to change later.

  
He texted her to pull up to the side of the building and he met her on the street with a baseball cap and dressed in a black hoodie. To those on the street, he was less recognizable but she could pick his profile out from anywhere.

  
The benefit of a high priced NYC apartment was the privacy he was guaranteed. No one in his building would care to text or tweet about this encounter.

  
"How are you feeling?" she asked in the elevator as they reach his floor.

  
"Fine," his voice is gravelly and thick.

 

Moreso than not, she noted that he sounded his age but then again, so does she. The salt and pepper colour of his hair stuck out from the side of the baseball cap and she wondered if this is another look he's trying like when he wore a lot of bracelets during Californication or he refused to wear anything but sneakers unless they were doing a full body shot on X-Files.

  
The metal doors open and they walked across the foyer to his door.

  
"The maid service came this morning so it's probably cleaner than you're used to," he said with a self-deprecating shake of his head. He kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket, hanging it in the front closet. In his singlehood, he had become much tidier also.

  
"Maid service?" she repeated.

  
"Yeah, I don't need a regular house keeper anymore since the kids aren't here full time," he replied and her heart ached for him. When her boys leave for their dads and she has downtime from work the house felt empty and too quiet. It was a stillness she wouldn't ever be used to. "She comes by every other week."

  
A familiar hand brushed across her back and she followed him to the kitchen.

  
"Thirsty?" he offered.

  
"Sure," she put her bag on the black marble of the kitchen counter. "Water."

  
"Wine?" he plied.

  
"Just water," she said, firmly.

  
"Do you mind if I have wine?" he asked as he pulled an open bottle from his fridge. "It's white, like a Riesling. It's not even technically alcohol."

  
She laughed and ran her fingers across the cool counter top. "No, I'm fine."

  
"Good for you," he said and put the bottle back in the fridge. He pulled out two large glasses from his fridge and poured them both water from his fridge.

  
"You can have some," she insisted and stepped out of her shoes. Much better.

  
When did he ever need her permission, she thought but he probably didn't want a foggy head tomorrow morning during his performance.

  
He handed her the glass and they stood in a bit of comfortable silence, drinking their cool water and studying each other openly. They could do that.

  
"You didn't paint your nails this time," he noticed.

 

San Diego had some late nights and sexual escapades inspired by black nail polish. That was the excuse he used when he took her panties off in an elevator and penetrated her before her hotel room door was locked.

  
She smirked at him. "I didn't think it was appropriate."

  
"Who gives a shit, it looks hot," he said and they shared a laugh. "I guess Dana Scully wouldn't wear black nail polish."

  
"Maybe when she was 18. Not as a medical doctor," she said knowingly but fighting a smile.

  
"No," David smiled back and crossed the kitchen.

  
"Certainly not," she agreed, her voice dropping an octave or two that usually went straight to his groin.

  
He crossed the kitchen and put his glass on the counter next to where she stood. Gently he took her glass and set it next to his. She was suddenly aware of soft music playing from down the hall and her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. He leant down and placed a kiss on her lips softly, his lips now wet with her saliva. She tasted like a creamed coffee she had to ask for at the heavily liquored bar over loud music to receive confused looks.

 

The spark, the familiar rush and the excitement of his closeness filled her body. After a certain amount of time, excitement and desire slow down but it never did with them. Other men, the spark faded and her excitement took longer to build. Maybe all women he was with felt this electric however he assured her it wasn't. Since his rehab especially, he took more time getting to know a woman and the lack of interest on his part beyond the initial first encounter was usually why he would gently and kindly let them down and end things. He never had to work hard with her when it came to this stuff. The sexual chemistry was always there, always bubbling and burning.

  
A hand moved from her narrow waist and to her back, pulling her to his body as he kissed her deeply. Against her better judgment, she moved her hands into his hair, knocking his Knicks hat on to the floor. His hair felt soft between her fingers and longer than she was used to. It reminded her of times on the set when his hair fell in his eyes as he moved on top of her.

  
Their tongues explored one another's mouths, gently massaging and tasting one another. She could smell the sandalwood of his cologne, the underlying musk of his sweat and the familiar scent of his laundry detergent. She wondered if in his new found singlehood he was back to doing his laundry too.

  
She could feel his soft tongue moving against hers and the outline of his rigid member against her belly. For a fifty-four-year-old man, he certainly was very healthy in that regard. When he broke the kiss, his lips moved quickly to her jawline and down her neck. When his lips grazed the sensitive nerves below her ear she gasped and pulled her head away.

  
"What?" he asked, holding her to the counter and trying to catch her gaze. "Gillian, what?"

  
She shook her head and looked into his eyes. Whatever was creeping into her mind and holding her back was surprising to her. The desire was still there and her body was tingling at the anticipation of being with him again.

 

_What was she doing?_

  
As though he was sensing her hesitation, he stopped his wandering hands from exploring her curves and held his forehead to hers. It was always her choice, he was never one to deny her but she had, once or twice, turned him down in the past. Apparently, he knew the difference between a ' _hard no_ ' and a ' _convince me to say yes_.'

  
After all these years, he knew her well enough when her body was relaxing under his touch.

  
In that split second, her mind threw caution to the wind and she said _fuck it_. Her fingers thread through is hair and she pulled his mouth to hers in a heated kiss. In twenty years, kissing him had only gotten better. He didn't take short cuts with her or skip any steps. He was careful and considerate even during their quickest of encounters, ensuring her pleasure came paramount to his own.

  
His hands reached down to the hem of the A-line of her dress and ran his hands up the smooth slope of her thighs, up to the edge of her panties. He voiced a preference to sheer, black or pink. He voiced his sensations when he touched the lace.

 

"I would like to thank whatever deity that made you I get to peel these things down your legs," he voiced as he did just that. 

  
With swiftness and ease, he knelt down on the hard tile floor and began his exploration of her lower body. His hands pushed the skirt of the dress up and he revealed to himself awaiting nirvana.

  
"Gillian..." he breathed as he saw white lace. "This is so much better than black sheer."

 

He placed a kiss on her mound and breathed in. She could see that his dick was hard against his jeans. He told her he envied any person who saw her in these besides him. It always was his possessive nature that prevented them from continuing on. He wanted her all to himself, even when she was sharing him. It was backwards and slightly misogynist but he couldn't help it. She knew that about him and accepted it. She added it to the unspoken list of why they could not ever be more than what this was. Two friends who loved and cared for one another. Who had amazing sex and knew each other better than anyone else, her mind spoke up and she pushed those thoughts aside.

  
Her fingers laced through his hair and moaned as he kissed his way across her thighs, his tongue tracing the edge and across her hips.

  
"You know," she breathed. "The kitchen might be unusual for us and fun but this can't be easy on your knees."

  
He didn't need any other encouragement and pulling her to the living room. The New York City skyline was visible from his couch and he sat her down there and continued his work, thankful for the plush white carpet under his knees.

  
He put a few throw pillows behind her back and pulled her so that her ass was on the edge of the couch. With his help, her panties came down and off. And gently, he pushed her knees apart and smiled up at her.

  
With a gentle kiss and some knowledgeable exploring he got to work, between lapping her like an ice cream cone and maneuvering his tongue in tight circles around her clit. A long digit was inserted into her wet, tight canal and she let out a long, high-pitched moan.

  
"Oh gaaaaaaaad," she moaned as his finger moved in and out of her.

  
It didn't take long but she was reaching the closeness to her release. The familiar internal explosion was building to move through her body and down to her toes. At least she had taken off her shoes and now her knees were over his broad shoulders, her dress was around her waist and her head was thrown back against the soft pillows.

  
The muscles on her stomach began to tremble as he continute to work on her and her thighs shook. Her inner walls suddenly clamped down on his long finger and cried out, her orgasm moving from her belly throughout her body. Her toes tingled and her face was flushed.

Knowing her, he left his finger inserted but stilled and placed a soft kiss on her thigh. She waved her hands and he nodded.

  
"I know, I know," he whispered, knowing to give her a minute. His finger withdrew and he sat himself down on the couch next to her.

  
Her head turned to him and she saw the same man she had been on and off with for over twenty years. There was love there, as much as either of them could give. A great deal of care and sexual chemistry that was unparalleled to any other - as much as they both tried to fight it.

  
She reached over and unbuttoned his jeans and slowly slid his zipper down. After he lowered his jeans to the floor he began working on the back of her dress, his thick fingers tugging on the delicate hook as it travelled down the smooth expanse of her back.

  
"Why did you wear such a high collar for today?" He asked as he peeled her dress down so that the satiny material was bunched around her narrow waist. He couldn't believe this woman had given birth to three children.

  
"I have a different dress for tonight," she murmured and unhooked her bra, tossing it over the arm rest of the couch. He pulled himself free of his underwear and she let out a satisfied sigh at the sight of him.

 

She reached for him and he caught her wrist and shook his head sadly. "I don't think we have time for that."

  
"You can get a rain check on that then," she replied. She climbed onto his lap, her juices slick on her lower lips and coating his member. "Kiss me."

  
He did, sharing the taste of her while and she pulled her body up, then sinking down onto him. The feeling of being inside of her took him by surprise and the both took a moment to revel in the comfortable yet still overwhelming feeling of being one.

  
"You feel so good," he said and kissed her breasts. "You smell really good."

  
Her hips shifted and she sunk further onto him, his head poking at her cervix. Another shift of her hips and she moved on top of him. Her hips rising and falling with a slow rhythm. He was sweating along his hairline and she wasn't surprised. He still had his button up shirt on, his boxer briefs were pulled down slightly to allow full penetration. While most of the effort was being done by her, his body was working and willing to maintain control.

 

"God you feel good," he repeated and she giggled. "Really really good."

  
He looked up and they kissed as their bodies moved. His left hand holding her heart shaped ass while the right massaged her breast, alternating to pinch her coral nipples. The man could multi-task.

  
She moved her right hand between them and began to work her middle finger in quick circles. Her back arched and she her movements became more deliberate. It wouldn't be long until she found release again. He wanted to come with her, to feel her muscles grip around him as he found his release. She suddenly cried out and ground her swollen sex into him, the tight walls clenching on him so tight he could feel his cum being squeezed out of him. He yelled out an expletive and shot into her.

  
She sat on his lap for a moment, breathing heavy and his hands rubbed up and down her smooth back while kissing her head softy. Her arms pulled her dress back over her chest, ignoring the bra she tossed aside earlier. She let out a deep breath and prepared herself for the quick retreat to the bathroom.

  
When she exited the bathroom he was waiting with her undergarments. Standing in the hall, while he washed his hands, she pulled her knickers on first before lowering her dress to put on her bra, not bothering for privacy. After twenty-two years, some modicum of modesty was still there but there were certain things they didn't close the door on. A quick pee after sex, dressing or undressing, and using the shower were open for company. Talking on the phone with children and ex-spouses was more of a private thing although that had changed over the last two years as well.

She pulled her dress over her shoulders and he turned her to pull the zipper up her back. She looked back at him with an enigmatic smile and he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder.

"You know..." he started.

"You didn't ask me over for this?" She guessed and they shared a laugh. "I smell bull shit."

"Yeah," he said and pulled her into a hug again.

He was still just as tactile.

"I have to go," she said, speaking into his bicep.

He let her go slightly and looked at her face. "Okay."

"Okay," she replied.

There were a lot of heavy words hidden behind those two syllables and she knew. She gathered her bag and shoes from the kitchen, he put on his ball cap and walked her down to the lobby where her car was waiting out front. There were ten messages from her assistant asking if she would be ready in thirty minutes to head to the party.

  
That was twenty minutes ago. Woops. Fashionably late is better than a no show at all.


End file.
